


To Be A Hero

by SaxSpieler



Series: Verǫld Vǫrðr [10]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaxSpieler/pseuds/SaxSpieler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two heroes have a chat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be A Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Because V is awesome and needs more fandom love.
> 
> During the 6th Age, especially following the defeat of Tuska and her ejection from the Godless, Finley’s insecurities about trying to be a force for good in the world come to the surface. The God of Heroism tries to talk her out of her funk.

“And so that’s how I helped the shape-shifting teenager stop the mad scientist and his future self’s head from creating an army of monsters to take over the world.”

Finley blinked, balking at the strangeness of the story she was just told. As she wrapped the oversized fur cloak tighter around her in the underground cave’s air, which was near freezing despite the small fire its two occupants had lit, she pieced together a response.

“Right, so you mentioned the mad scientist’s future self’s head? Where was the rest of him?”

V chuckled heartily, poking the fire with a tree branch.

“Well, sometimes, it would drag itself across the ground using a number of metallic tentacles, but for the majority of my visit, it sat on top of the decapitated body of a great yeti-like creature, controlling it like a parasite!”

“You’re havering!”

“I’m not!” he boomed, smiling broadly. “This world was very strange, Feurhildr. When I arrived, I found myself in an underground city of monsters and creatures I could’ve only imagined while under the influence of at least ten kegs worth of ale. I was glad to leave that world and move on to the next.”

“Why?”

V’s smile disappeared, replaced with something Finley thought could have been nostalgic disappointment.

“I had a feeling that, if I stayed there any longer, I would forget myself and be morphed by some undefinable cosmic force into a bland, immature facet of what I used to be.”

“Ah.” A chill wind whispered through the cave at that moment, and she scooted closer to the fire and V. “Can you tell me another story?”

“I’ve told you ten stories already, Feurhildr,” he said simply, poking the fire again. “Why don’t you tell me some of your own?”

Finley shrank slightly under the god’s gaze. She turned to face the fire, not wanting to meet V’s eyes anymore.

“None of them end very well,” she said, fingers tightening in the fur of her borrowed cloak. “I try to be a hero, like you, but…”

“But what?”

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself. The last thing she wanted to do was crumble to pieces right in front of the god, the man, the hero whose stories had been told to her since before she could walk.

Staring into the fire, she found herself sitting not on cold stone, but on the knee of an aged man who bore more resemblance to the bears that roamed the woods around the Bannbreker home than his fellow Fremennik. His war and wood-weathered fingers expertly plucked the strings of an equally battered lyre, and his voice, still full and powerful, wove the story of a hero’s genesis.

 _T'was on a haughty winter, we’re bitten with frost,_  
_And none would dare venture where many were lost._  
_V sailed his mighty longship to the island of stone,_  
_Where the king of the serpents had made it his home._

“I try to be a hero like you,” she began, her voice low. “But things always seem to go sideways and people end up getting hurt because of me.” Something rattled deep in her chest mockingly, laughing at her. “I lost my family, my friends, my husband, a god – too many people – because of my own damn blunders. And now, the whole world’s in danger because of me. I’m no bloody hero.”

Silence filled the cave. Finley continued staring unblinkingly at the fire before her, letting the smoke and embers burn her eyes.

“Feurhildr.” She flinched at the sound of her Fremennik name, wishing she could disappear into the fur of the cloak surrounding her. “Feurhildr, look at me.”

She did so, slowly. V’s face was stern, but hardly angry.

“Do you think that I’ve won every battle I’ve fought? Do you think I haven’t lost friends and family to my own mistakes before, as you have?” he said softly, almost mournfully.

She shook her head hesitantly, still not meeting his eyes.

“Do you still think me a hero?”

Without hesitation, she nodded.

“Why?”

“W…what?” she stammered, turning slightly.

“Why do you think me a hero?”

“Because,” she began, struggling to put the obvious into words. “Because you want to help people. Because you want to do good for the world, no matter how difficult that might be. Because-”

“Because even though I’ve lost so much and have been knocked down so many times, I still stand up and fight for those who count on me.”

“Exactly! That’s why you’re a hero.”

V’s smile in response was almost smug, as if he had just coerced Finley into divulging her greatest, most embarrassing secret.

_Wait…_

“And that’s why _you’re_ a hero, Feurhildr,” he said.

She froze at the statement, finally locking eyes with the god beside her.

“I’ve heard some of the stories that speak of the World Guardian. A storm of a woman, determined to protect the world, and all who live in it, or die trying. No matter how many times she’s knocked down, she stands back up and keeps fighting – not for herself, but for those who stand behind her. And if that doesn’t make her a hero like me…”

He paused to remove his horned helmet, releasing a cascade of tangled, golden hair, and placed it squarely on Finley’s head. Though it was far too large for her, dwarfing her head comically, she couldn’t help but get the feeling that it suited her.

Somehow.

“…then I don’t know what does.”

Beneath the helmet, Finley felt what might have been the first smile since Tuska was spotted hurtling towards Gielinor stretch across her face.

“The world hasn’t given up on its hero, Feurhidr. Don’t give up on yourself, either.”

“Thanks, V.”

The cave’s chill receded slightly and, for a moment, the world was calm.


End file.
